


never here after all

by alteanmoon



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mortal, Angst, Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Ghost!Annabeth, Mortal AU, Percy and Annabeth haven’t met, Tartarus in another reality, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, ah there’s too much tags now, aka 3 am, classwork that just HAS to be posted, i guess?, like a new ao3 account, or something like that, tagging is hard, they’re right, witching hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteanmoon/pseuds/alteanmoon
Summary: Percy has been having strange dreams of a certain girl who died years ago. 700 years to be exact. Now he just needs to know if she was real or not.





	never here after all

Beaten up, bruised and motionless. The first thing that comes inside his mind; highly contrasting to his first thoughts, before the battle. Strong, beautiful and very much alive.

“She still is now” he thought to himself, tears running down his cheeks and glassing his eyes. He tried to reach out but he couldn’t.

He stood there paralyzed, as the monsters of Tartarus began marching over to her, trampling her fragile frame and leaving no mercy. Once again, he’s letting his knees drop to the cold, hard floor as the memory seem to fade away, to the distance, and everything turned black.

Percy woke up, screaming, with a jolt. The darkness around him reveals that it was indeed, witching hours. The three am on his digital clock radiates bright red rays all throughout the room. He never dared tell his parents, usually only told people he trusted. Once he told the school psychiatrist who wrote it off as just a weird trick of the mind. He's used to people telling him it's probably nothing, that the brain is weird about those things.But Percy knows it happened.

Every single night he has the exact same dream.

About the exact same girl.

The girl who calls herself Annabeth, and one who’s been long gone. For 700 years.

It’s been seven years since the dreams started. Seven long years; two thousand five hundred and fifty-seven long nights with her. He’d spend his days normally; any activity a typical 15 year-old would do; but at night he’d turn into a different person. He would dread the nights, not eager to relive that gruesome moment, over, and over again, with no mercy whatsoever. The dreams just keep coming and coming, and it’s burned to his memories by now. Yet he can’t put a finger to it.

For somebody who spent 84 months dreaming the specific same dream of a dead girl Percy never recognized her features. He looks at her, repeatedly. Every movement, every word spoken, he observed but not her. He didn’t know how big her eyes were, the way they crinkle when she laughs at his jokes in the midst of the battle; he didn’t know her pearly white teeth that greets him with a smile; and most importantly, he didn’t know her last name. The mess of curly blonde hair and stormy gray eyes were distinctive, he just didn’t know where or how they were positioned so effortlessly. He didn’t know much about her, yet he’s falling. So deep.

Percy’s room was eerie quiet. He gazed outside the window, perpendicular to the position of his bed, having nowhere else to look. And he sees a faint glow outside. His feet moved without his permission, and soon he was jumping out the window and onto the tree in his backyard. Sliding down the tree trunk and following the glow that just keeps on glowing brighter by the second to the creek. He stopped behind the figure, only to see it was a blonde with gray eyes that seem to draw him in closer. “Hi,” she whispered to him, whilst turning around and staring into his emerald green pupils, contrasting against her stormy grey that seems to have soften up for him at that moment. The name Annabeth was repetitively ringing in his mind. He wanted to go shout to the world of the existence of the beautiful girl standing in front of him, but as he turned around a cold breeze was left and the seven hundred years old combatant was never there after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this one shot thing that I made for my English class that is supposedly due on Monday :’) the topic was “ghost story” so this was the best I could come up with! sorry for the grammatical / spelling errors, English isn’t my first language!  
> kudos + comments are appreciated! nothing is mine except for the plot, and even that is unoriginal uh  
> -tasha / alteanmoon


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